


Two Weeks

by vesper_house



Series: Before Dawn [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU (Movies), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, son this is porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 15:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5971429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesper_house/pseuds/vesper_house
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night just wasn't enough. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5793847">Glass and Patron</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I didn't mean to but here you have it. Works better if you've read the first part although honestly, this is PWP. 
> 
> Once again, the title was inspired by [FKA Twigs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3yDP9MKVhZc)
> 
> Please keep in mind that English is not my first language, so the whole work may feel a bit wonky. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> \--------------

November 13th

\---

“Smallville!”

Clark flinches in his seat.

“What?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

_Shit._

The International Conference on Green Energy in Metropolis was getting much more attention than Clark expected. The event turned out to be almost as big as Expo, with dozens of scientists giving lectures throughout the whole week. Apart from those truly committed to greener, healthier Earth, there were also shams on corporate paychecks, hired only to create smoke screens for some ugly truths. He and Lois have decided to attend the press conference together and later decide if there was a scoop.

The plan would work perfectly if it was not for Clark’s complete lack of focus. Lois rolls her eyes so hard she could probably see the back of her skull.

“Stop daydreaming, farm boy,” Lois says, a hint of irritation in her voice, “I don’t know what happened but you’ve been acting weird lately.”

Clark does not want to lie to her. She is one of the very few people he can trust these days – both as Clark Kent and Superman. Yet he is pretty sure that his memorable night with Bruce Wayne should remain a secret. Honestly, by this point he is annoyed with himself. It has been two weeks and in his mind, he still goes back to that hotel room, the gorgeous man and the feeling of being pounded into another dimension by a huge, fat…

“I’m sorry,” Clark says to stop that train of thought. After a moment he adds quietly: “The other guy has a lot on his mind right now.”

Lois looks at him softly, understanding. It makes Clark feel awful.

“Tell him to stop reading comments on the Internet.” There is a knowing smile on her lips.

They drop the subject in silent agreement. “As I was saying…” She does not have the time to finish because the guests start to take their places on the podium. They are the representatives of companies believed to be responsible for the majority of the world’s pollution and, not so incidentally, the sponsors of the whole event. Clark recognizes people from Lexcorp and Queen Industries, a professor from Metropolis University and…

“I didn’t know Bruce Wayne would be here,” Lois says with obvious interest as Clark’s jaw hits the floor, “he usually sends someone from Wayne Tech research, doesn’t he?”

Clark really wants to say something but his mouth is completely dry. The excited murmur of voices behind him suggests that the presence of Bruce Wayne is a surprise to everyone. Suddenly the intensity of cameras snapping raises by a few levels. A panicked assistant puts a proper nameplate in front of the microphone. In contrast to what is going on in the press room, Wayne does not seem to be bothered at all. He carries himself with the usual easy confidence of someone who owns the place. Also, as Clark notices immediately, he looks _ravishing_.

“Do you think he is a hippie now?” Lois asks, not looking at dumbfounded Clark. “I know he already dropped almost all of his military contracts. What is this, love, peace, flowery pots?”

“Wayne Enterprises always endorsed the idea of free energy,” Clark manages to keep his voice calm even though his heart is racing.

“Yeah, but he’s old money,” Lois retorts. “Guys like that don’t care about environment unless their profits are at risk. Something’s fishy. Hold on, you’ve met him, right? Has he told you anything about coming here?”

 _Coming_ is certainly not a word Clark wants to hear at the moment.

“Yeah, did I mention he was acting like a jerk the whole time?”

“You’re way too sensitive, Smallville.”

If Clark had any difficulties with concentration prior to this event, right now he is absolutely wrecked. He tries to act normal, keep his head up, cheeks pale, and his dick totally limp. Except it is impossible to achieve with the obscene memories currently flooding his brain. After he left the shower they had tea, meaning that Clark sat in Bruce’s lap while the man gave him a slow, measured handjob, kissing him sweetly and whispering how he was a good boy, daddy’s best boy, come for daddy…

 _This is bad_.

So far Bruce have not looked at him. He probably does not realize that Clark is there at all. A different thought occurs to Clark: what if… Bruce does not remember him? After all, there has to be a reason for his playboy reputation. It is not like they promised each other to keep in touch. They did not even exchange phone numbers. Hell, maybe Bruce has already forgotten Clark’s name after scratching another notch in the bedpost and Clark is the only one stuck on a meaningless one night stand. The idea stings. Badly.

 _I’m an adult and I’m gonna act like one_ , Clark thinks to himself. The crowd laughs at something Bruce has said.

“Charming mother fucker,” Lois says under her breath and takes notes.

Clark, of course, has no idea what is going on. Looks like he is not going to act like an adult after all.

“I have to go,” he whispers to Lois.

“What? Is it… an emergency?”

In the spirit of not lying to her, Clark simply does not answer. He makes his way through a swarm of reporters, careful not to get in the way of anyone’s shot. The urge to just fly far away from this place is surpassed by the fact that his slacks got a little bit too snug. Clark is not sure whom he hates more right now: himself for being such a mess, or Bruce Wayne for being so unfair attractive.

At first he goes to a spacious terrace, now soaked in the morning sun. He takes a deep breath and just lets himself enjoy it for a bit, face turned up towards the sky. The feeling of new energy being absorbed bursts through his veins. Clark always imagines it as golden sparkles slowly filling his body. It feels good. Fantastic, really. Like he could fuck for hours, days even, just go on and on without any breaks with Bruce on top…

Okay, so perhaps getting out in the sun was not such a brilliant idea. 

Clark starts to look for a restroom with his coat pressed in front him, embarrassed like a schoolboy. It seems that the universe hates him today because he cannot find it and he surely does not dare to ask anyone for directions. At last he enters blissfully empty toilet and proceeds to splash water on his face. The sight of his glasses lying near the sink causes another flashback. Clark is many things, Superman included, but he is _not_ going to masturbate in a public restroom.

 _Try to think of something unsexy_ , Clark muses bitterly. He starts pacing back and forth, counting from one hundred to one. It actually kind of helps. Clark can feel his composure getting restored around forty-seven, which is precisely when the restroom door opens.

_Oh no. No, no, no._

Bruce Wayne shows up in the doorway. Although his face is strategically blank, there is a telltale flame burning brightly behind his glare. Oh, he definitely have not forgotten about their night, right now Clark is sure of it. He can feel a shudder crawling up his spine.

Bruce does not say anything. He walks past Clark entirely and checks the stalls. Once it is clear that they are alone, he grabs Clark’s tie and pulls hard.

“Hey! What are you…” Clark protests weakly as Bruce yanks him into the last cabin. He gets shoved to the wall, his reporter bag falling off his arm. The kiss that follows feels like a punch and honestly, Clark would not have it any other way. His senses get abused from the familiar, sweet hint of cinnamon in Bruce’s perfume, the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his skin, the crisp elegance of his clothes and the hard, muscled body underneath. It is too much and not nearly enough at the same time. Clark can feel himself shaking to the core. He lets out a muffled cry when Bruce grasps his crotch.

“Oh sweetheart, is that for me?” Bruce asks breathlessly. “Did you get hard when you saw me? Was that enough?”

Clark wants to tell him how he felt for the past two weeks, like there was an itch he could not scratch no matter how hard he tried, but he is too lost in the urge of getting more, _more_ of that gorgeous man who seemed so out of reach when he woke up this morning. He opens his mouth wider to swallow anything else Bruce might have wanted to say. The rational part of his brain takes up the reins for a brief moment, humming _this is wrong, someone will come in and you will get caught_ over and over again.

“We… shouldn’t…” Clark utters between bruising kisses.

“Keep it quiet then,” Bruce hushes him instantly.

Suddenly Bruce drops to his knees and fumbles with Clark’s zipper. For a moment there is nothing but silence filled with tense anticipation. Then Bruce starts sucking him and it is as neat and precise as everything else about the Bruce Wayne persona. Clark wishes he could scream. His chest feels heavy, like he is suffocating from his own restraint. He does not dare to look down at the billionaire currently focused solely on giving him pleasure. Bruce must have sensed that he is holding back because he captures Clark’s hands roughly, demanding his attention. Clark’s fingers sink into incredibly soft, graying hair he adores so much. At once he is fully aware of the steady, bobbing motion that brings him closer to the edge with every second. A rush of air escapes his lungs before Clark can stop it. He realizes, terrified, that it was freezing cold.

Although what fulfills him with real dread comes from the outside. The sound of someone entering the restroom.

Clark panics a little and checks if the door is closed. Fortunately they reach the floor so no one can see if the stall is occupied. All he has to do is stay calm and not make a sound and it will be alright…

He glances down, which is a mistake.

Bruce keeps his rhythm, clearly not bothered at all by the intruder. Clark is mesmerized by the view of his dick disappearing inside this hot, beautiful mouth, combined with Bruce’s hollowed, slightly rose-tinted cheeks…

Bruce looks at him and fucking _winks_.

Clark shuts his eyes and crams a fist in his mouth. He is scared that otherwise the whole building will rattle in its foundations from the power of his moans. The stranger is washing hands now, apparently oblivious to the obscenities taking place just a few steps away, _thank goodness_. Clark tries to concentrate on that person but he cannot, not with the way Bruce’s strong grip and tightly pursed lips work on his length, like there is nothing more important in the world than making Clark come as soon as possible. The sound of water running stops abruptly. Clark can feel the pressure in his abdomen slowly becoming unbearable. He pats Bruce’s shoulder awkwardly to give him some kind of a signal. The reaction he gets is the opposite of what he expected: instead of slowing down, Bruce just sucks him harder, _the bastard_. He hears the restroom door open and then shut with a bang as he comes in Bruce’s mouth, the sensation so overpowering it nearly folds him in half like he got punched in the stomach. He does not make a sound only because there is no room left in his body for air, every part of him taken over by pleasure.

Bruce gets up from his knees and gives Clark a big, wet kiss. Clark feels his own cum being pushed inside his mouth with every move of Bruce’s tongue, slowly dissolving in their mixed saliva. He flinches, startled with the odd taste. His eyes fly open just to meet Bruce’s unyielding stare. It is weird to keep such an intense eye contact during a kiss, but somehow it fits the situation, the sheer vulgarity of what they just did. When they part, there is a thin streak of drool still connecting their lips. Bruce promptly wipes it off with the back of his hand and leaves the stall without a word. Clark is left alone, struggling to process everything that just happened. A little hazy, he manages to pull up his pants and gets out as well. Wayne is flushing his mouth with tap water. Clark makes sure there is no one but them in the room, then makes a step forward.

“You… are…” _a fucking whore, that’s what you are,_ “...shameless.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Wayne responds, smug as usual.

“No doubt about it.”

“Watch out or I’ll put you over my knee,” Bruce smirks and it is so not fair, Clark’s dick should not be able to twitch with interest after the last few minutes of pure debauchery.

“Promise?” Clark asks with a lopsided grin, watching as Bruce fixes his hair.

“Now who’s the shameless one?” Bruce straightens his tie and jacket, looking for any cracks in his otherwise immaculate presence. Clark hates him dearly. “I hear miss Lane from the Daily Planet is very determined to have an interview with me today.”

 “Lois gets what she wants,” Clark says and washes his hands. The mirror shows that he looks exactly the way he feels: fucked out.

“Hmmm,” Bruce purrs, “will you assist her?”

“I guess I could… arrange it.”

“Wonderful.” Wayne takes out something shiny from his pocket. Clark realizes after a while that it is, in fact, the most stylish mint can he has ever seen. The billionaire puts one in his mouth. “I’ll see you there, mister Kent.”

“See you soon, mister Wayne.”

After Bruce is gone, Clark takes a better look at himself. He snorts softly at the sight of a tiny drip of cum stuck under his lips.

_That bastard._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...They will fuck, I promise.


End file.
